


intromittent

by azazelsocks



Series: kinkmeme fills [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barbed Penis, Bestiality, Bottom Sam Winchester, Come Inflation, Double Penetration, Hypnosis, M/M, Mindbreak, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azazelsocks/pseuds/azazelsocks
Summary: Forthis spnkinkmeme prompt:I'd like to see a fic where Sam (or someone else, I'm not picky) is hypnotized by a giant serpent and turned into its mindless, drooling, sex slave. Emphasize the victim's losing battle to maintain their free will, a little voyeurism, and the serpent penetrating the victim with the tip of its tail and I'll adore you forever.





	intromittent

**Author's Note:**

> i needed something to take my mind off my ntac writer's block and... uh... i seriously considered posting this to anonymous but you know what, fuck it, i wrote goddamn _lore_ for this nonsense, here it is, read the tags *throws filth at you and runs away*

Sam’s not even sure how it happened. He swears he looked away from Dean and the trail for just a second while fumbling in his jacket for the map, but here he is. Separated from Dean, dazed from tumbling down a rock face, and lucky that the worst injury he’s got is a sprained ankle.

His entire body still aches, though, and his arms smart where brambles whipped across them on the way down. What’s worse, he’s lost his weapon. He dragged himself into a sort of clearing when he landed and put his back against the lee of a large stone, a small dip where dead pine needles have been accumulating over several seasons. Sam gazes up in the direction he fell from, hoping to see something through the trees, but there’s no movement up there.

Rule number one when separated in an unknown wilderness: stay put. Easy to follow; he’s not going far with the ankle. On the other hand—every atom of his body itches to leave, get to better shelter, hide. 

If they were hiking for fun, Sam would be yelling his head off to help Dean locate him. As it is, silence is in his best interest.  There’s something in these mountains, something they were hunting, and Sam doesn’t like the thought of tangling with the monster with just his pocketknife. 

He pulls the front of his jacket tighter around himself and settles in for the uneasy wait, reviewing the case details in his head to keep his mind from coming up with increasingly far-fetched possibilities that could befall him. They’re hunting a monster native to Scandinavia but not unheard of in other parts of the world given their dispersal patterns.

Sam can’t pronounce the Scandinavian name even in his head, but the monster was the source of the old legend about Fafnir. It went that the gods killed an otter for its pelt, not realizing it was a shapeshifter with two brothers, one of whom was named Fafnir. In recompense, Loki paid the brothers a weregild of cursed gold. Those who took possession of the hoard would surely meet with death. And just so, one of the two brothers was dead before the day was out; Fafnir became overcome by greed and killed his brother to take the gold for himself. He transformed himself into a dragon and disappeared into the wilderness with it. In some versions he also breathed poison into the land around him to prevent anyone from coming near. 

In reality, the creatures were big-ass venomous snakes with some mind-altering powers and strong hoarding behavior—usually of gold, but not always—willing to fight to the death before they let their treasures go. They were solitary and territorial, and at some point in the life cycle they set out into the wilderness to find secluded areas of their own. Tasting their blood gave the shape-shifting ability of the original brothers and the power to understand the speech of birds. If you could get close enough to one to kill it. The hoards were still cursed, and disturbing one was the route to certain death.

For instance, the case here was that a businessman hired a construction company to begin work on a development project to expand into the forests, and days later three construction workers were found dead together at the foot of a backhoe. The project was halted immediately, then cancelled when attempts to contact the businessman revealed that he had died around the same time, falling down a flight of stairs. The rest of the construction crew’s been dropping slower, over the last couple of weeks, and Sam hopes they’ll be able to gank the serpent before the curse takes the last dozen men. They know it lives in this forest somewhere, and Dean insinuated himself into local hiking groups to map out all the well-known cave locations.

Of course, that’s not going to happen if it eats Sam first. Sam scans the forest again, but there’s nothing. It’s getting towards late afternoon now, light dimming, and exhaustion from hiking all day and falling down a cliff and being in a whole hell of a lot of pain are starting to get the better of him. He accepts that his abraded arms and legs are going to smart like hell whatever he does, and does his best not to jostle his injured ankle as he lies down, hissing in pain from the rest of it anyways. The pine needle bed is prickly, but it insulates him from the chill of the ground.

For a while, he intends to keep his eyes open—he’s only lying down to rest a bit, not actually sleep—but that’s a delusion. He dozes off like that, arms wrapped around himself for warmth.

He wakes staring into two round eyes. Huge, with gash-like pupils—made of bottomless yellow. Sam stops breathing. The snake’s tongue flickers out and tastes the tip of his nose.

Sam scrambles up to a sitting position before he really processes what he intends to do, and exhales sharply in an aborted cry as the movement shakes his ankle. The snake is _right there_ , and it’s _gigantic_. Its wedge-shaped head is at least the width of Sam’s torso, with a thickly muscled body to match. Sam is as good as dead if he stays where he is. Or, if not dead, stuck with another wound that will further complicate getting back to the motel alive.

Which is exactly the same thing as will happen if he runs, hobbled as he is. In the end, Sam just sits there, gaze still fixed to the serpent’s. It has coffee-colored diamondback markings, a dusky golden sheen to its scales, which Sam appreciates from his peripheral vision. The entire snake is impressive, in size and appearance. But it’s the eyes he can’t look away from.

It slithers closer, head still raised to look at Sam, and alarm bells vibrate feebly in the back of Sam’s brain, their clappers stilled by the hypnotic quality of the serpent’s stare. Sam still doesn’t move, and the snake dips its head. 

Eye contact broken, Sam flinches, scrabbling to flee as the snake comes even closer, huge body radiating a strange warmth as the side of its head slides against Sam’s ribcage. He pushes at it in blind animal panic, tries to secure his footing so he can propel himself away , but his ankle fails him, and he cries out again, falling back against the stone. The snake ignores his antics and nudges behind him, gaining the leverage to headbutt him away from the rock.

Sam hits the ground hard and wheezes, breath knocked out of him as he’s left laid out flat in the clearing away from the rock. The impact makes his eyes water, and he tries sit up and squint through it to keep the predator in view.

He thinks of the three construction workers, how twisted their bodies were in throes of pain before death. Thinks of seeing the look on the face of the lab technician when she declared cause of death “unknown poison,” and knowing they were both thinking about what it would be like to be poisoned that way.

The serpent is watching him from the rock, and when it sees him looking it raises its head, body swaying back and forth in hypnotic arcs. Even from this distance its eyes are transfixing. Without his permission, Sam’s body goes limp and falls back against the ground, legs sprawling apart.

He doesn’t see it approach, staring at the sky, but he feels it. Three hundred pounds of muscle solid against the inside of his leg sends terrified shivers reverberating through his tensed adductor muscles, and hypnotic influence or not, Sam’s instincts are screaming at him to close his legs. He tries, but the snake rears up to loom over him, and the tension in Sam’s mind clicks off. 

The yellow is so deep.

It doesn’t look away from him as it opens its jaw, the gape deforming wider and wider as the ligaments stretch. From its throat drips a viscous golden substance.

It seems to take eternity for the first droplets to hit him. They’re hot when they do, burning through denim and flannel. Literally—to Sam’s horror, whatever it is begins to dissolve his jeans and shirt, and pretty soon he’s just in his boxers, which, though dampened from the substance, are untouched. The snake’s jaw twitches, like it’s confused, and it lowers its head slightly and repeats the process—and now the stuff dissolves his underwear. The creature must be able to control what the poison destroys or doesn’t. Plus… he jerks his foot, and realizes that his ankle is healed. Multiple properties. Sam manages to find that fascinating somewhere under the cloying fear.

With Sam naked, the snake surges forward, slithering over the join of leg and hip and against Sam’s side. Sam gasps. Three hundred seems like a conservative guess now, pinned to the forest floor by its mass.

It nudges under his arm, under his shoulders, propping him against its body, and the whole time the rest of it slides across Sam’s crotch. The serpent’s scales are sleek and interlock closely, forming a pleasant leathery texture, and though snakes are meant to be cold-blooded the serpent exudes heat. To his distant horror, Sam begins to harden. Tears form in the corner of his eyes.

It’s just friction. Sam is only human.

He flexes his shoulders, thinks about moving. The serpent is still looking at him, and he’s forgotten why running isn’t an option or why he wanted it so badly, and loses the train of thought entirely soon. He reaches a hand down to touch his dick instead. The snake hisses, jaw snapping open impossibly wide again and Sam feels a wave of shame and disappointment crash over him. He snatches his hand back, leaving his dick neglected and throbbing.

The snake stops moving then, half-coiled around Sam’s back so it can keep him in sight and a good portion of it still lying between Sam’s legs. Or at least—it stops moving forward. Its body twists, revealing the underside of the portion resting over Sam’s leg. Its belly scales are ivory, rows consisting of one long row at first and eventually becoming pairs of scales. And at the juncture of the scale patterns… an opening. Something inside, bulging out slightly. 

The snake’s vent, Sam’s mind helpfully supplies.

And emerging from the vent…

The snake’s penis. The snake’s _penises_ , oh god. _Hemipenes_. 

They’re nothing like human penises. Slick and wet-looking, they appear almost unfinished, with much less structure than a human penis, no clearly-delineated glans or veins. Blunt shape, widening slightly towards the flattened head. They’re also much bigger than human size—Sam’s fairly sure he would need both hands to come even close to wrapping around the two at once—and even more worryingly, each is topped with a rosette of tiny thorns radiating from the urethra. They angle away from each other in an obscene V.

He squirms, helpless, as the snake advances. The tip of the lower cock nudges at his hole, the snake’s movements deliberate and measured. Sam tenses, the flow of tears leaking out of his eyes intensifying. He feels splayed open, vulnerable, and his heart hammers. The hot, aching knot of anxious tension beneath his ribcage twists harder.

The snake ignores him completely and nudges harder, rhythmic. The thorns scrape at sensitive skin, more like fingernails than needles, but oh, Sam is terrified of what they’ll feel like inside him. 

It doesn’t matter. His fear and tension are irrelevant to the snake, and useless against its patient onslaught. 

The submission of Sam’s body is inevitable. 

He cries out, half-sobbing, as the head catches on his rim and slides forward, making its way inside unimpeded. Full sobbing, soon, as the spines ravage delicate skin. The snake doesn’t thrust. It merely inches forward, feeding more and more of itself into Sam without respite. It isn’t long before the jerky movement of lungs and throat that sobbing causes is too painful to continue. The snake is so heavy inside, stuffing inch after inch into Sam’s breached opening. His crying abates to quiet tears as he squirms ineffectively on the column of flesh he’s fixed on. 

It shoves the last inch inside, Sam’s legs spread helplessly around the girth of the cock inside and the snake itself in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure. The other hemipenis smacks against his iliac crest, rubs against Sam’s own still-hard cock as the snake rocks into him, still not quite thrusting.

A pause.

Sam screams. 

The spines expand, piercing him and locking inside, and he can’t help it. He fights. Wriggles, kicks, punches, thrashing in its iron grip. The rocking doesn’t stop, tugging back and forth at the points where the spines impale him. The snake coils the front half of its body around so it can face Sam again, eyes narrower now. Like it’s upset with him.

Sam couldn’t look away if he wanted to, wrapped around its dick and held in its coils, but despite how desperately his body is screaming at him to keep resisting, he stills.

He doesn’t relax. He goes limp. It’s something in its gaze, and, and… He’s finding it hard to think now. He notices that his ass hurts much less, and feels almost pleasantly numb, stretched and filled and weighted with cock, but not painful. Not like that.

That’s when the snake starts fucking in earnest. The spines retract, allowing the snake to pull back before plunging forward again. The heavy drag and snap of its thrusts shake Sam to the core, and he moans through clenched teeth with every movement. It still hurts, he knows this intellectually, but his cock is hard and dripping over his belly, and his muscles won’t obey his attempts to thrash. The most struggle he can manage is the desperate scrabbling of his hands against the too-smooth scales of the snake in a fruitless attempt to brace himself as the snake pounds into him. 

Its second hemipenis slides against Sam’s cock, growing slicker and slicker from Sam’s own pre-come, and Sam groans. The snake’s thrusts grow more violent, more rapid, and it shoves forward as hard as it can, stuffing itself into Sam to the base, and comes. Sam feels the heat of it, feels the weight of the fluid in his belly. Imagines he sees his belly bulging slightly underneath the serpent’s coils. 

Some part of Sam flinches away from the sight, but the rest of him stares transfixed, needy arousal pulsing around the edges of a curious blankness. Or rather, an incurious blankness.

It seems to stop only after Sam is filled to the brim. Surely it’s done now. It will pull out and then leave, satisfied. Sam vaguely remembers some snake trivia suggesting that snakes had hemipenes to store twice as much come, so that they could skip the refractory period, always ready to inseminate a female. It shouldn’t waste time fucking Sam more than once—it’ll go look for something else to spend its second load in. Maybe the next dumbass hunter that  stumbles through here. 

Strangely, Sam can’t muster any reaction, positive or negative, to the prospect of the snake leaving—no hope or relief, no increased alertness, no readiness to take advantage of an opportunity. He lies limp against the snake and waits for whatever it has in store for him next.  

After a period of some time, the snake pulls all the way out of Sam, and Sam feels its come follow, leaking sluggishly from his ass. The snake doesn’t go far, though. It rearranges them, the coils around Sam’s torso turning Sam over in its grip, arms bound tightly against his sides. The length of the snake behind the hemipenes wraps itself around Sam’s legs, and it forces him into a bend, head pressed to the ground, knees raising his ass up.

It braces one hemipenis against his thigh, the other still nearly at right angles to its match, but its coils begin to pull Sam’s legs tighter together, pressing the hemipenes together at the same time. 

Both tips nudge against Sam’s vulnerable, stretched hole— _not stretched enough for this_ —and Sam finds he still has enough mental faculty to tense. Shit. He stares unseeing at the forest in front of him, mouth open in—pleasure? shock? horror? a cry for help?

It’s harder this time. The girth that it’s attempting to shove into is greater, and Sam’s legs being closed makes everything much tighter. The snake seems determined to get in his ass anyways. It’s in no hurry. It rocks slowly but insistently against Sam, little by little forcing his hole to open. The thorns scrape over his rim again, and Sam cries silently. 

Finally, the snake manages to force the heads in, a quick, vicious movement, Sam’s hole closing around the slightly slimmer shafts. It pulls back, hemipenes tugging at the inside of Sam’s rim, and then slams forward, jamming every inch of both hemipenes into Sam’s helpless body at once. 

Sam howls, entire body shuddering as he tries to writhe and can’t, held too tightly. The snake’s coils abruptly release his legs, and they immediately fall open, spread wide around the massive circumference inside him. The snake shoves again, makes certain that Sam has been forced to take the snake in its entirety, then begins to thrust.

It fucks him for what feels like hours, Sam’s mouth hanging open as his cheek is pressed to the ground. In some ways, there is a curious sense of safety, the coils wrapped around his chest like armor. On the other hand, his ass is totally defenseless, hanging naked from the serpent’s embrace. Vulnerable. He moans at the thought, shuddering. The snake is taking full advantage of that, pounding him mercilessly. His knees grind into the mud, scraping across the forest floor. He’s panting through his mouth, too overcome to breathe through his nose, letting out embarrassingly needy whines and grunts with every thrust, well past any ability to keep silent. The spines drag across his tender walls, scrape over his prostate, and Sam shakes around them, overcome by the sensation, unable to tell if he’s in pain or pleasure. 

His own abandoned dick swings between his splayed legs, still hard, but Sam barely notices. He can’t focus beyond the ever-presence of the serpent, his world narrowed down to it and what it’s doing to him. Even if he could, he’s well-bound—there’s nothing he can do but take what the snake gives him.

It crams itself inside one last time and the spines expand, digging in. Sam yells. Feels his dick twitch at the new burst of sensation. It hurts, but over the cacophony of physical stimulus, the pain barely registers. The snake spills inside him like that, wound around Sam so tightly he can’t move, both cocks wedged into him ass-up in the forest.

The pressure inside him increases steadily, and Sam struggles to adjust himself, bracing his forehead against the ground to look underneath himself at what was going on between his legs. Through the tears still in his eyes, he sees a bulge nearly to his ribcage even with most of his torso hidden under the snake. The serpent isn’t finished coming yet, and he whimpers as his belly expands even further. 

There’s a moment of stillness, the only sounds the hum of the forest and Sam’s harsh, labored panting.

The snake unwraps itself from Sam’s torso, rearing up. It coils itself into an upright position, dragging Sam up with it by the hemipenes still locked in his ass. It thrusts against his hips one last time, and then the spines retract. 

Hole wide and slick with three loads of come, the hemipenes glide easily through Sam’s channel. Without the spines fixing him in place, Sam begins to slide. The snake lets a drooling Sam slip from its hemipenes face-first onto the ground, the hunter too dazed to catch himself. He crumples before the snake, ending up lying mostly flat. His hole gapes, oozing snake come. It tries to wink, close up, but can only manage a weak twitch. 

The snake coils itself back around Sam, just one loop under his arms, and carries him away like that, semen still leaking from his fucked-loose hole.

It brings them into a cave some ways away and tugs Sam past the deer bones scattered outside into the dim space. It curls itself into a loose pile, Sam’s head pillowed against one coil and his belly pinned under another. His limbs sprawl artlessly over the serpent’s body.

Sam tries weakly to shift himself into a more comfortable position, bracing a foot against one of the snake’s coils. More come blurts from his hole with the movement, and he falls limp again. Sam duly secured, the end of the serpent’s tail snakes its way up and rams itself into its prey’s widened hole, plugging the mess. Sam lets out a quiet moan and orgasms at last, legs twitching mindlessly as his body tenses around the snake and the loads still inside.

He makes no further move to struggle. He can’t.

He falls asleep like that, spitted and held-open on the serpent’s tail.

Light streaming into the cave wakes him the next morning. He blinks, flat on his stomach against the ground, and tries to figure out what he’s looking at through the cave entrance. Clarity eludes him, and several thoughts nag at him, not least of which is an insistent urge to do… _something_. What to do? He’s not really sure. He pushes himself up on hands and knees. Steadies himself,  heaves a breath. His sweat-damp hair falls in his face as he stares at the floor and tries to figure out what he’s supposed to be doing.

Something heavy rests itself on his back, and Sam’s elbows shake as he’s forced to support the unexpected weight. It slithers over his shoulder, wraps around his neck. 

The hemipenes nudge against him again, and he can only moan. He subsides spread-eagled to the floor, splayed out for the snake. His hole is still slack from the day before and the snake thrusts forward without preamble. The angle is not quite right; the first hemipenis slams up and up into his ruined body while the second slides between his asscheeks,  a massive weight dripping heat onto the small of its back. The snake hisses as if in frustration and yanks itself out, ramming forward again. Both hemipenes cram themselves into Sam’s gaping hole.

Sam’s eyes roll back, mouth dropping open loose and slack. There’s no sign of the resistance he had shown just a moment earlier.

The snake thrusts forward again, satisfied. This one it plans to keep for a long time.


End file.
